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Monthly Archives: September 2013

Conan’s lady love asked him once “Do you want to live forever?” (right before she hopped and got herself killed – not entirely her fault, but “we” needed some reason for Conan to go on a quest and show off his swordmanship – or axemanship :-).

Well, probably not in this world. But heaven (most def!).

So I was out and about today (hey! not like the devil). I went to help a colleague pay for some credit on her mobile line (she is not in town and ran out of call credit).

On the way back this lovely “earthy” (equivalent to something roasting 🙂 smell hit me and I couldn’t but help look around for the source. It was a lady and her assistant under a bug umbrella canopy. She had a grill with Plantain and yam roasting on it.

Went up and inquired about the stuff. Had to wait for another customer to be served. She went away with took plastic bowls and a serving in a plastic bag (I suspect the former were for her bosses wherever she worked). In the process the seller opened a couple of other plastic coolers: one contained the stew and “pomo” (cow skin) pieces and the other contained fishes.

Well, I asked for two yam pieces, a plantain. Decided what the … and asked her to add one of the fishes and a couple of the “pomos”.

That right there in the picture above has shortened my lifespan by 6 months (I guess that’s what the dietitians would say). But who wants to live forever in this world right? All the good stuff will kill you 🙁

A friend saw me recently and commented that since I was packing on the pounds now, what would happen when I get married?

It’s temporary though. It was the journey “outside” that caused it. I generally can do with or without food. But once I am em away, it seems food is just everywhere waiting and begging to be eaten – not to talk of other stuff like choccy! I have a simple exercise regime that’s better than nothing but I need to wait a little to get back into that until I fully recover from my recent close encounter with a wooden chair

Well. Let me leave the keyboard and get down to it. The only thing missing is a bottle of fizzy drink to ensure the whole thing congeals nicely in my belly. Well, don’t let’s shock the health-police too much. They might have a heart attack!

I was looking for a particular document today and had to wade through several big envelopes. As usual I came across some of the old communications between myself and some companies I had tried to “get into” 🙂

I am including some scans from the NLNG “attempt” below:

I can still remember the NLNG tests. I scaled the first one in Lagos then “crash ‘n burned” during the second stage test in Abuja.

The envelope the invitation letter came in.

Invitation to the first test above (let’s weed out the chaff eh?)

Second test above (we all now know how it ended 🙂

There are others of course: Mobil, SHELL, Chevron, …, hey! I have been around 🙂

There is a falsehood that has been propagated down through the centuries: “that a man can sell his soul to the devil” – this is a lie of the devil (literally). You cannot legally sell what is not yours. A conman may be able to sell another’s property and even get away with it. But you cannot sell what is God’s in the same way: even the devil is not in a position to buy it from you. The devil cannot buy or own a soul. True, a man may make a pact with him such that in exchange for worldly goods and influence, the MAN does (conscious decision) things that would make him certainly destined for hell, but the devil cannot force one into hell, nor can he take someone’s soul from him (by force or otherwise). Where the soul ends up is based solely on the man. So all those stories about the devil showing up at the end of one’s life (look up Mephistopheles for example) to take away someone’s soul to hell is pure B.S.

Because that’s the story of the jeans in the picture.
My car was at the mechanics overnight on Friday and I was on my way to pick it up on Saturday morning.
I had to take a bus at the bus park in Ajah to the place. I asked the nice looking young lady sitting in front of the empty bus if I could join her. She moved over and as I attempted to get in by raising my left leg up and into the front followed by the right when the trousers split down the inner side of my thigh (see the picture below). This was a regular 10-seater bus so you can imagine how high (not too high) I had to raise my leg to get in.
I am not sure she noticed but I got in as quickly as I could and (fortunately) I had a plastic bag with some stuff in it with me which I placed on my laps with my legs together of course.
I felt quite uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to get away (had to wait for the bus to fill up).
When we got to my stop, I basically alighted like a crab sideways to minimize the chances that anyone would see the tear in my pants.

So I guess a 12 pound pair of jeans is a cheap knock off – what about 20?